Idylls of Tim Riggins
by k4writer02
Summary: Tim hates English class, because all the books have morals. Tim has to write a paper about Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere, so he gets help from Julie.


Title: Idylls of Tim Riggins

Author: k4writer02, Kate

Fandom: Friday Night Lights

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

Characters: Tim Riggins, Julie Taylor, ensemble mentions

Summary: Tim hates English; all the books have morals. Tim thinks about Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere and spends time with Julie.

Tim Riggins hates English class. He's not fond of math, social studies, science, Spanish, or anything other than gym, lunch, and the occasional study hall, really. But he particularly hates English. All those books with morals. All those hard-to-fake essays and reading tests.

He flunked it the year before Mrs. Taylor started in the guidance office, before Coach became head coach and started caring about the stuff like if the players are in class or elsewhere.

Dillon's on block schedules, so he didn't have English during football that first year, and thus had less than no motivation to read the books, go to class, or do the homework. English was right after his lunch period, during Tyra's, so he skipped about forty percent of the classes to make out with her. He had to take it over the summer—and he only started showing up regularly when Coach laid down the law. At that point, he was already on campus three days a week for Captain's practices anyway, so he passed the class well enough to stay on the team.

Mrs. Taylor put him in English, history, and math all at once, during football season. She called it "motivation." How she expected him to do homework with two-a-days he doesn't even know, but since he doesn't really do homework anyway, it's not a huge problem to him. It taxes the rally girls a little, but they're just waiting to be asked to help him.

But he protested, for form's sake. In reviewing his schedule with her, he sarcastically asked "What's left for me to even take in the spring?"

To which she responded, "Biology, Spanish, computers, shop, even Family and Consumer Science…" she appears to be able to recite this list like breathing.

"Family science?" He snorts. "Thought _that_ was biology."

She smiled and he knew that she was pissed, and that his ass was gonna be in home ec next semester, and that Coach wasn't going to be any help at all. The man knew which side his bread was buttered. Tim realized that she had a disconcerting habit of knowing what makes him lazy, and that he wasn't going to be getting away with nearly as much.

So he's in a section of English during football season (again), which means he has to pass that damn class. It was bad enough last year, state year, Jay's year, when Mrs. Taylor and Miss Lee suspected his Rally girl operation and gave him Landry for a tutor. But he passed the class, even if the kid did read the entire book out loud to him.

He really didn't like Ms. Lee. She spends a lot of her time looking a bit superior and only liking the Julie Taylors and Landry Clarks of the world—the arty girls who do things like dance and write (bad) poetry for the literary magazine and the nerdy boys who volunteer to read extra books to poor, dumb kids. In Tim Riggins's estimation, Judith Lee is one of those people in this town who looks down her nose at football players (except for Saracen, because he's smart and keeps quiet and teachers generally like him, if they notice him at all) and the people who idolize them. But Riggins passed, and he earned that C . And he respects Ms. Lee (without liking her), though he wouldn't tell her either of those things.

Riggins can only figure that whoever took Mrs. Taylor's job while she was off having a kid was jerking off, because Tim is in the same section of English as Julie Taylor, who's clearly a better class of student, for all that she's a year younger. They're in Brit lit, which is mostly juniors and remedial seniors. Tim sits in the back and almost no one remembers he's in there because he doesn't show up all that often. Take, for example, the kid who got Julie drunk at that party and didn't even seem to know Tim was in his class.

So they're all in Barnett's class, and at first the guy seems like he's okay. Barnett's young, and he's not a prick about it if you need an extension, as long as you show up and stay awake. That doesn't help Tim, because he doesn't do either of those things, but he still sees that Barnett is a decent guy. He comes out to watch on Friday nights, and seems to understand the game, which goes a long way in Tim's book. Riggins can tell that when he was in high school, Barnett was probably a little like Matt was before Jay got hurt. Smart, outside the spotlight, doing his own thing with drawing and writing, no steady girl, some good buddies.

Riggins gets along with him fine—Barnett doesn't cut him much slack, but after last year, Tim expects to work in this class, if no other. It's shortly after he comes back to Dillon from Mexico and Jay when Barnett gives him a photocopied packet and tells him he's doing makeup work.

Tim rolls his eyes, because this is the last thing he needs and he's not even trying to stay on the team right now, but he doesn't say any of that to Barnett. Just takes the packet and walks away. He thinks about throwing it away, but instead he just shoves it under the seat of his truck and more or less forgets it, what with the living situation drama. And Barnett probably forgets too, while he's dealing with his own shit.

Riggins hears about Mrs. Taylor's showdown with Mr. Barnett, like everyone else, and boy does it make class more interesting for a few weeks. With the rest of the kids who are more interested in living people than dead authors, he watches the back of Julie's head (usually ducked, now) and he watches Mr. Barnett carefully not looking directly at her and wonders if this would've happened if she were still with Matty.

Up to that argument, it's been Julie and Mr. Barnett talking, with occasional contributions from the indifferent rest of the class. Now Julie stays silent as a stone when Barnett asks questions. She stays in the first row, though, more to avoid the rest of the class than to be near the teacher. In the first week post meltdown, she only turns around once, when some cell phone or mp3 player serenades the class with "Don't Stand So Close to Me." Her face was half furious, but she mostly looked like she wanted to cry. Barnett confiscated the phone, but there's more laughter than there should be.

For the first time, Tim kinda misses Ms. Lee. She reminded him of Coach, a little, mostly because she never put up with that kind of shit. No one even dared blink in Lyla's direction when they were reading Scarlett Letter, and that's probably the only place in school that was safe for her last year, in the bad time.

Tim doesn't say anything to Julie about the stares and the singing; they don't really ever talk about it. He knows her parents don't know that she's still living with this, that they chalk up the moodiness it causes to other factors. And it's not his place to say anything.

But at the house after practice, while Mrs. Taylor is in the bedroom with the baby and Shelley is at her class and Coach is outside on his phone and Julie's sulking on the couch, Tim pours vodka and a splash of juice into two cups (Mrs. Taylor can't object to what she doesn't know). He can tell Julie's unhappy. She's not subtle about it, of course (that might be why he's the only one in the room with her). He thinks it could be about the dance that she's not going to, what happened in class today, or seeing Matt with his new girl. Or even Tyra and the newest guy from Larribee.

Instead of asking, he puts the cup with more juice in front of her, and he turns the TV over to a show Tyra always liked. He smiles when she relaxes, and lets himself relax against the cushions, feeling the bruises and almost enjoying them, because they mean he's really on the team again.

He gets kicked out of the Taylors' house later that week, but that night is still a good memory.

A couple weeks later, after Tim moved back in with Billy, Julie raises her hand in Barnett's class for the first time since her mother bawled him out. She asks if the research paper can be on a book they didn't read as a class, maybe one by an author they did study. Someone fake coughs "Lolita" from the middle of the room. From his place in the back, Tim can't tell exactly who did it, but he suspects the skinny guy from the party. Barnett looks like he wants to shoot someone (maybe himself). Tim can't see Julie's face, but her shoulders tense up to her ears and she scrunches down in the desk and hides behind her wheat colored hair.

When the bell rings, she jackrabbits out of the classroom so fast he thinks she could teach the sprinters something, even if her form is all off (he's learning more about women's athletics than he ever thought he'd know). He considers catching up to her and saying something, but comforting a girl who's upset by rumors and gossip isn't really his strong suit (witness Lyla after the cafeteria incident). And they're not friends like that, and he doesn't think he wants Coach seeing him with her, even if that mess did get straightened out. He makes a point to glare at Barnett on his way out, because even he knows that the teacher should have more control.

It's later that week, getting toward the end of the first marking period, when Barnett asks him to stay after class. Tim lingers in the back of the room, by his desk, laconic as ever.

"Do you have that paper for me yet?" Barnett prompts.

"Ahh," Tim is trying to remember what he means.

"The one on Tennyson." Barnett smirks, and Tim thinks he knows why Mrs. Taylor distrusts this guy. He wonders if there were a teacher in Tami Taylor's past, then banishes the thought—he can't really imagine her as young, or as separate from Coach (even though she's a total MILF). Barnett calls his attention back to the task at hand, "Idylls of the King."

"Oh." Tim blinks. "Oh, yeah, that. Hey, I just, it's been busy." He drawls it out, stalling.

"End of the week, Tim." Mr. Barnett sets the deadline, voice firm. "A thousand to fifteen hundred words, on any one book. Analysis, personal application, I don't care as long as it's interesting, and it shows you thought about what you read."

Tim wishes he cared enough to fight, but between being Taylor's bitch with athletic department stuff, team practices, money worries and fantasies about Lyla, he's not so much into the school thing. He shuffles out, and Julie's there by the door, like she was waiting for him. That's an interesting development right there. "What'd he want?" She sounds weird, like she did when she saw Saracen with his new girlfriend, and that thought leads to a road Tim does not want to go down, because he either winds up her ex or her ex's new flame, and both thoughts make him uncomfortable.

"Wants me to write a paper." Tim shoulders his backpack. "To make up for Mexico."

Julie blinks. "Do your friends know how much paying for Mexico you're doing?"

"Not a clue." Tim says, meaning he doesn't know if they know, but of course Julie thinks it means they don't know.

"Can I help you?" She pauses, "Like, not do it for you, but can I help?"

"Why?" Tim asks, curious. Maybe she still feels bad about getting him kicked out of her house, maybe she still wants to be in touch with Barnett, maybe she's hitting on him. Though the last one is unlikely.

She chews her lower lip. "I'm just…pretty good with that stuff. And I like to help. Ask—," she chokes, recovers. "You could ask Matt. I used to help him study."

Tim knows what happens on study dates, so he doesn't plan to ask Saracen. Pissing off QB1 would be the last thing the team needs, with Smash's fooling around. "Thanks." He manages, lips tight.

Julie looks hopeful. "What's the topic? Maybe I could do some research for you. Make notes."

He wonders if she realizes how cute she is when she's not being bitchy or trying to be cool. He wonders if it's safe for him to realize that she's cute, because Julie Taylor is even further out of his league than Lyla Garrity, and Lyla seems pretty far away lately. "Tennyson. Arthur Tennyson."

"Do you mean Alfred, Lord Tennyson?" She corrects. "He wrote about Arthur; we read the last idyll, from Idylls of the King, while you were away. But I like the first idyll best, because he wasn't so mean to Guinevere there. The middle ones are kind of boring, though. And there's not nearly enough Galahad. And after they get the Grail, the knights of the round table just fall apart."

"Yeah, that's it." Tim agrees vaguely, not following much. "Arthur and Lancelot and Guinevere."

Julie looks kind of excited, kind of sad. "I don't like this version. It doesn't end…happily. Like, Guinevere dies in a convent, cause she tries to be a nun. And Arthur gets stabbed by someone he thought was his friend, and they ship him to Avalon to sleep till he's needed, and Lancelot…"

The bell rings, and she looks startled. "When should we meet?"

Tim thinks for a split second. He's not inviting Coach's little girl into the weight room to read to him, but he doesn't really want to bring her home to Billy either. "Um…after practice?" He asks. "But where?"

She suggests the library. He shrugs—good as anywhere else.

When he gets to the library, still damp from a shower, she's waiting. True to her word, there are notecards. Honest to god, index cards covered in her neat, girl handwriting, outlining a paper. He wonders if she'll use them for her term paper.

Her friend, with the dark hair and the L name (Lainie? Lora? Louise?), is at the table behind her, looking at him a little bit like ferret guy looked at him. It's creepy, and he tells Julie so, and she snorts, but tries to turn it into a cough, so that her friend (Lisa?) doesn't think that Tim and Julie have special jokes. The friend (Lois?) flounces away ten minutes later though, and clearly, one of them is supposed to follow her. But neither of them do—Julie offers a little wave to the brunette's back and keeps scanning whatever book is in front of her.

Once they're alone in this corner of the library, Julie summarizes "The Coming of Arthur" for him, then starts talking about themes. He's pretty sure she's making all the theme stuff up, because there's no way the story means all that.

Here is what he learns. There's this king, and he's not really the most important king, but he's a big deal in his part of the world. Tim pictures Buddy Garrity, with a crown, sitting in a castle. And this king, who isn't all that important except at home, has a daughter, Guinevere. This daughter is gorgeous, and she's angelic and good and a lot of people want to marry her. That's Lyla, in Tim's mind.

But the king is under attack, so he has to ask for help from someone else. Tim decides to think of the war like football, and the young knights the king recruits to fight his war for him as the team.

That first war, the one Arthur and Lancelot fight in together at the beginning of Idylls of the King, that's like their jay vee or a preseason game—something you gotta do to get into the big leagues. The Knights of the Round Table are the team. Arthur, the king, is like the team captain/QB1. And the Grail? The Grail is like State. That's the quest, the thing everyone wants. And at first, Arthur's all about looking for it, but then he stays home and sends the knights out. Galahad comes out of nowhere to be the go-to guy, and he does it, does what not even Lancelot could do. But after Galahad gets it, the team splinters and Arthur goes away.

But way before that, the knights win the war, led by Arthur (a golden boy). That's Jay, Jay like he was and always should've been, straight and strong and a warrior. And Arthur's doing it all for the king's daughter, but then the king starts panicking about whether this young guy is good enough for his princess. And that's true enough. In Buddy's mind, even Jay wasn't good enough for Lyla. And Mr. Garrity looks at Tim like something you'd wipe off your shoe. So there's a lot of talking about who Arthur's parents are, because to them, that's what made someone good or bad.

But Merlin and Bleys, the teachers, vouch for Arthur even if his dad was a deadbeat who tricked his mom into having sex. Riggins reckons that's like Taylor and McGill sticking up, saying "he's a good boy," even if he did sue them. So Guinevere's dad listens, and Arthur sent his best friend, Lancelot, to pick up his girl, and it takes them a month to get home, and then Arthur marries her, and it seems all happy.

Except Julie insists that if you read carefully, you see that Guinevere never loved Arthur, because she didn't notice him when he was suited up in uniform (in armor). It's all about love at first sight, and she gets mixed up and sees Lancelot first and thinks he is Arthur, who's going to be her husband, so it's not her fault so much that she falls for him.

But the important thing (Julie says) is that nothing stays good forever. She's scowling now, and he doesn't want to have to think about Julie as Guinevere (she's got her dad wrapped around her finger) and Matt as Arthur (the hero no one expects) because that would probably turn Landry into Lancelot, and there's no way in hell Julie left Matt for his best friend. Unfaithful drama queen, she may be, but she didn't leave Matt for his best friend, and that's something. Besides, Matt's more like Galahad anyway. With the virginity thing, and all.

And at the very end of the book, Guinevere goes all super religious and won't run away with Lancelot even though he's capable of taking care of her and she makes up with Arthur and dies celibate (which is a damn shame, in Tim's opinion).

He tries sharing his opinion with Julie, in a few words, just that the Grail is a little like State, and she understands, maybe better than he'd like her to. She nods. "Yeah, I do that too. Make the people I know fit the books I read. Like, Moby Dick, right? I remember being convinced that State was the White Whale, and Smash was Queequeg, and my dad was totally Ahab."

Tim sprawls back into his chair. "I dunno. He did a shitty thing." Julie looks confused. "Lancelot," He explains. "And so did Guinevere. But it sounds like she never even got to say yes or no to Arthur—like, everyone talks like it's the greatest love story ever, but she didn't pick him, not for real."

Julie tilts her head at him, like she's dissecting what he's saying, and about to decide whether or not to argue it. "You know, some stories put all three of them together. In—in bed." She blushes.

He can tell she thinks that she's being totally shocking and risqué. He decides not to mention his summer activities or the Stratton sisters. It surprises him sometimes, that she can be so innocent, that there is this much innocence in a sixteen year old. He doesn't think Julie would want to hear that, being that she thinks she's so sophisticated. "But not this one." Tim says.

"No." Julie sighs. "I don't like the way this one ends. It's way too mean. The poetry's beautiful, and like, the themes of corruption and moral decadence among the nobles—that was totally the point in England back then. But I read it, and I think, why does she give up? She already wrecked this one perfect thing in her life and she can't go home and get Daddy to make it all better, so even if she can't fix it, why doesn't she stick with the one she wrecked everything for? Because that had to be something really good, if she gave her husband up for it."

Tim doesn't want to tell her that maybe she realized that she wrecked it all for something that was never real; that maybe the guy on the side was only fun as a dirty secret. He doesn't want to think about Julie as a woman who uses men, and he doesn't much wanna believe that's how Lyla used him. Maybe neither of them are Guinevere. He wonders if she's thinking about her, Matt, and the Swede or some other configuration. "What do you want to happen?" Tim asks. "Cause triangles only work in math books. No way they all live happily ever after, big bed or not."

Julie nods, "In First Knight, Arthur dies and Guinevere's single at the end and Lancelot is still there as the knight," she offers. "But that was kind of a stupid movie." She fidgets the pencil. "So what do you want to write?" She asks shyly.

"I'll just bullshit something about how it made me feel." Tim says. "About who cares who your parents are, if you're a good warrior?"

Julie shakes her head, like she can't believe him. "No, Tim. You need a thesis. You're going to do a five paragraph essay. You'll write an introduction, and three body paragraphs, and a conclusion. Your thesis will be about a theme, or how it made you feel. Here, I made up a few." She passes three notecards, each with a sentence on it. He discards them all because they use words he's never even heard of, and starts trying to think of something. He wonders if the Taylors fed her alphabet soup and cereal, and that's why there're so many words in her now.

Julie props open her book (Persuasion), and Tim stares at the back of the photocopied pages.

He settles on "The first book in Idylls of the King reminds me about my life. The characters, their relationships, and their goals remind me of people I know, their relationships between them, and work."

He pushes it across the table to show her. Julie wrinkles her little nose, and nods. "Yeah, um, we can work with this."

"But?" He prompts, annoyed that he's annoyed by her underwhelmed reaction.

"But it doesn't sound like you either, not completely. And it's too much to talk about, in a short paper. Why not choose just three characters and how they're similar and different from people? You can fit in the relationships between them, as transitions. Try writing for a little while, then I'll help you."

She's bossy, but that doesn't irritate him much. It feels like something she learned from Tyra, a familiar pattern reconfigured. He tells himself he only listens because he needs to pass so bad, but it's kind of nice to be bossed around by another Taylor. Feels like he's in good hands—Coach has him on the field and fills up his other hours with working, Mrs. Taylor has his future and the classroom, and Julie? Julie's in between, so he knows he won't slip through any cracks with the three of them on the case.

He clears his throat a little, gets her attention. Jules tilts her head. "You can't be done."

"No, uh, I was just wondering. Before. Did you, and the teacher…?"

He trails off, and she looks like she's going to slam books or cry or something. He hopes he didn't just make her mad enough to leave.

"No." She hisses. "We did not, and he wouldn't, and now he never will, even after I graduate."

Tim notices she didn't say she wouldn't, so he breathes a sigh of relief that Mrs. Taylor got some sense into Barnett, and asks, "Why do you still go, then?"

"Go where?" She snaps, obviously irritated.

"To class."

She's blinking in surprise. "I can't not go. It's class."

Oh, Jules. There's so much she doesn't know. "Your mom could've gotten you switched into another class. Why didn't you?" He asks.

"I don't know." Julie answers finally. "At first, I didn't want to let her be right, and then it was too late to do something without letting them win, and now I'm stuck."

"So it's your pride?" Tim asks, glad that she's not harboring some crush.

Julie makes a "tch!" sound with her teeth and tongue. "Do your homework so I can go home and be grounded some more." She insists, and he takes a page out of her book and kind of hides behind his hair, grinning a little as he made his pen say the things he thought about the poem.

Yes, it was a good thing to fit with the Taylors. His own little idyll, a good thing that couldn't last, but a dream memory that stays with you, wherever you go.


End file.
